


Every Part of Me Is Broken (There's Nothing Left Intact)

by OneOfTheYoungest



Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: (I am going to single handedly build this tag), Gen, Guilt, How Do I Tag, Hurt Murtagh, Hurt/Comfort, It's not fair that it's not one, Pain, Paolini fans I AM DISAPPOINTED, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24217984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneOfTheYoungest/pseuds/OneOfTheYoungest
Summary: "Do you know," the barkeeper says, leaning forward, his voice low, "what happened to the Red Rider?"Eragon raises his eyebrows. "He fled the scene.""Not everyone is as well off as you," the barkeeper says, and Eragon wonders who he is talking about. "After the battle, King Galbatorix was furious. He made sure the Red Rider's screams were heard in every corner of the city."Or, Murtagh after the Battle of the Burning Plains.
Relationships: Murtagh Morzansson & Eragon Shadeslayer, Murtagh Morzansson & Thorn (Inheritance Cycle)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is my fanfiction ever! I'm actually a published author (my debut novel To Where It All Began is available on Amazon) but I'm a sucker for fanfictions as well. I noticed that the Inheritance Cycle doesn't have many good quality fics that I liked much, so here I go, trying my own hand at it!
> 
> I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or anything related to it except my own creations.

Eragon is bone-tired.

But he can't sleep. Every time he closes his eyes, he hears Murtagh's voice, edging on madness, hears the pain in his words, that Murtagh would never admit to.

After an hour, he gives up and wanders outside. Saphira is sleeping just outside his tent; Eragon strokes her wings. She growls under her breath. 

_Saphira_ , he says. _Saphira! Wake up._

 _What is it, little one_? she says sleepily. 

_I cannot sleep_ , Eragon complains _. I want to go for a ride. Maybe have a drink or two_. 

Her eyes open, amused. _Very well_ , she says. _Anything for you._

Eragon grins and climbs on. He whoops as they left up, closing his eyes against the wind. 

_Take me to a bar,_ he tells Saphira, and she hums.

When she lands in front of a building, Eragon climbs off and enters the crowded bar.

"A pint of mead," he tells the barkeeper, and a minute later, he slides it over to Eragon.

"So," he says. "Did you hear about the battle? I heard it was an intense one."

Eragon nods. "It sure was," he says. "But the Varden won at the end."

"Do you know," the barkeeper says, leaning forward, his voice low, "what happened to the Red Rider?"

Eragon raises his eyebrows. "He fled the scene."

"Not everyone is as well off as you," the barkeeper says, and Eragon wonders who he is talking about. "After the battle, King Galbatorix was furious. He made sure the Red Rider's screams were heard in every corner of the city."

* * *

Murtagh is afraid.

He is always afraid—of his demons, of his enemies, of Galbatorix. But right now, the fear curdling in his chest can only be compared to what he had felt when he had first been presented to Galbatorix after being captured by the Twins. 

_You made the right choice_ , Thorn tells him, but Murtagh isn't sure. He never is, these days. 

He stays silent as he strides to the throne room, head held high, strides confident, even though he desperately wants to curl up in his room and hide. 

Galbatorix will be angry. He will be furious at Murtagh's betrayal, and he will hurt him, unleash his wrath on him.

Murtagh is so, so afraid.

As he approaches the huge doors, the guards open them and announce, "The Red Rider, sire."

Murtagh drops his gaze to the ground, bowing deeply. He does not have the courage to meet Galbatorix's eyes.

"Murtagh," Galbatorix says, and there it is—the cold fury in his voice. Murtagh barely represses his flinch and forces out, "My lord."

"I heard what happened," the king says. "I am disappointed, Murtagh."

"I tried, my lord," Murtagh says, barely able to speak past the lump in his throat. 

"What you _did_ ," the king thunders suddenly, and Murtagh flinches, "is betray me."

"Sire—" Murtagh breaks off as pain cracks through him, the shock making him fall to his knees. 

"You know what I do to traitors," the king says, and the pain doubles. Murtagh braces himself against the floor, tremors racking his frame. 

"You will come to regret what you did. Perhaps I should have known that maybe you felt some brotherly affection towards Eragon Shadeslayer—" The king clenches his fist and Murtagh feels as if he's being choked. He claws at his throat, eyes clenched shut. "I will stamp it out of you."

 _Be strong, little one,_ Thorn tells him gently. Murtagh strains for air, vision spotty, while agony bursts in his chest, making him choke again. Just as he thinks he will pass out, the king relents and lets him breathe.

Gasping, Murtagh doubles over. 

"You will face your punishment tomorrow," Galbatorix says, deathly cold. "Do not expect any mercy."

Murtagh scrambles to his feet, staggering and almost falling over again. The pain in his chest is agony, cruel and relentless. He can't—he can't think, can't breathe. 

_Do not expect any mercy_. It echoes in his head, and he thinks somewhat hysterically, _I'm doomed._

* * *

Murtagh doesn't sleep that night, which is to be expected.

Thorn is worried for him more than he is for himself. He can take the pain—he wasn't the one subjected to all the torture when Murtagh was originally caught, and he isn't the one who has all the stress piled up on his shoulders. Murtagh tries to hide his anxiety and fear from Thorn, but their connection is too strong. 

Glanatorix loves to torture Murtagh and make Thorn watch. That, on its own, is agony enough for Thorn to make him satisfied. 

Presently, Murtagh is curled up under Thorn's wing, still and silent but wide awake. Before he was pacing like a caged animal, his breath hard and fast, but now his energy seems to have been depleted. 

Thrown hums soothingly and feels Murtagh place a hand against his vibrating belly. They sit in silence, waiting for dawn. Thorn knows better than tell Murtagh to sleep, because he knows he cannot. 

_Whatever happens_ , Thorn tells him, _I will be there for you._

He senses Murtagh smile softly. _I know_. 

(They are so, so wrong).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murtagh was expecting pain, agony, but not...not this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for taking his long. Life got busy! Please don't kill me.
> 
> Enjoy.  
> Or rather, suffer.

Murtagh wakes up—when had he fallen asleep?—feeling cold and empty. It's not because of fear or resignation, it's as if...as if there's something missing, both physically and mentally...

_Thorn._

Panic cracks through him and he _freezes_ , muscles locking up, breath catching. He tries desperately to call out to Thorn, to deny the thought that they could somehow have been _separated_ —

It's like slamming into a brick wall. There's no give, no reply. Thorn is simply _gone_ , like someone built a wall in the between their connection. 

Murtagh can't breathe. 

He presses his hands to his face, trying to make the pressure in his chest to lighten. The desolate, utter feeling of loneliness that he'd felt all his life before Thorn—it's back and this time it's worse, so much _worse_. It's better to have not felt that _oneness_ of a Rider and his dragon at all, than to have it for one glorious moment and then to have it ripped away, so, so cruelly that Murtagh _can't breathe._

"No, no," he mutters desperately, nails digging into his scalp, "no, no _no, nonono—"_

 _Thorn,_ he tries again, longs, wishes, dreams. _Thorn, please._

His eyes are blind, he sees only swirling black spots; his ears are deaf, apart from the rush of panic in them; he tastes the awful mixture of blood and clay and ash; smells tears, blood, _panic_. 

"Thorn," he half sobs, "Thorn, please, please, _come back—_ " 

He's too out of it to be ashamed of himself. 

He can't live with this desolation, can't survive without Thorn—because it's always been Thorn who's been with him, who supported him, who kept him intact, it's Thorn, Thorn, always _Thorn—_

Murtagh is going insane.

* * *

It's not until after Murtagh's panic fades slightly that he realises he's in a cell, and Galbatorix is loving every moment of this. He knows the fool hates being trapped in enclosed spaces after going through the torture—Galbatorix still triumphs from that; Murtagh's trauma is a constant source of suffering.

Right now Murtagh is sitting with his head in his hands, fingers kneading through his hair. Before, he had been sobbing and screaming—pathetic, honestly—to be let out, calling for Thorn. Even from a distance, Galbatorix can see him shaking. 

The dragon had taken it much better; he hadn't broken down, merely growled to himself. Galbatorix constantly scries on both of them. While Murtagh deteriorates, Thorn silently tries to reach out to his Rider. Just to have some fun, Galbatorix allows a sliver of their connection, letting Thorn's call reach Murtagh.

Instantly, the rider scrambles to his feet, eyes wide. Galbatorix is inside their heads, so he knows exactly what they are saying. 

_Thorn?_ Murtagh calls out hopefully. _Are you there?_

 _Little one,_ Thorn says gently. _I am here._

 _Thorn—_ Murtagh starts again, shoulders slumping in relief, and just then, Galbatorix cuts them off again. Taking advantage of that opening, he thrusts into Murtagh's mind.

He physically recoils with a cry, throwing up haphazard walls in his mind. They are strong, admittedly so, but Galbatorix knows how to break through them. 

_Fool_ , he thunders, thrusting again with a forceful push that makes Murtagh fall to his knees, clutching the sides of his head in pain, _do you really think that your dragon could have done that if I hadn't let him?_

Murtagh still tries to block him out. Galbatorix seizes every happy memory that he brings up in an effort to repel him and twists them, pulling and tearing in a way that he knows will cause agony almost beyond bearable. 

Murtagh screams, writhing on the floor, fingers digging into his temples so hard that he's drawing blood. 

_If you think this is torture_ , Galbatorix growls, _you have no idea what I have in store for you_. 

Murtagh struggles to his feet, staggering into the wall, drawing up the last of his strength to fight back against Galbatorix. He is a fool to think he can overcome him.

 _I will stamp every bit of defiance out of you!_ Galbatorix thunders. _Every time you disobey me, every time you think that you can be_ free— _I will make you regret being born_. He cracks down on Murtagh's happiest memories—the exhilaration of being on Thorn's back, high up on the air; the fuzzy feeling when he was curled up against the dragon's hide. 

_As for you and your dragon_ , he threatens, drawing out the action of picking apart the momeries so that it will hurt, _you will not be able to see each other—much less have that connection again—until you submit to me completely._

Murtagh succumbs to the pain, sinking to his knees. He is sobbing freely. "I'm sorry," he mutters hoarsely, feverishly. _I'm sorry, please, I won't do it again, please_ , he thinks; the projected thoughts are garbled, delirious. 

(Galbatorix revels in it.)

He leaves him like that, drowning in his own misery. He imagines what that damned Eragon's reaction would be—horror, probably. Righteous outrage. 

Galbatorix may have felt that way once. But not anymore. His former, weak self does not exist anymore. (It was repulsive.)

He wonders if he should cut something off—a finger, an ear ( _a head_ )—and send it to Eragon Shadeslayer (damn him, damn him, _damn him_ ). 

In his anger, he clenches a fist and then Murtagh is choking (fool, fool, _such a fool_ ); he claws at his neck, his eyes bulging, tears streaming down. 

Galbatorix wants to leave him like that...but then—

He can't kill his favourite toy, can he? 

No. He has use for him yet. 

(It helps, too, he thinks, that he knows his new true name now. He'll know the dragon's soon.) 

He is going to have so much fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! More coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Drop me comments and kudos is you're feeling kind!  
> My novel's available here https://www.amazon.com/dp/B086PMZN9X?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860 if you want to check it out, and cone hang out with me on Instagram @maheensalmanahmad


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